Chapter 1
In my previous life, Leopold Austin's first love, Monica Miller, took a knife meant for me and died.
He hated me for it, so much that he locked me away and tormented me for years.
By the time I turned 22, I was completely drained, both body and soul, and I just couldn't take it anymore.
I chose to end it all by slitting my wrist.
The last thing I saw before dying was Leopold's bloodshot eyes.
He warned me, "If you had another chance at life, don't ever love me again, and don't get between me and Monica."
So I didn't.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in my senior year classroom. Outside, a basketball game was roaring.
Leopold pushed the door open and carelessly tossed his school jacket into my arms.
He said, "Hold this for me. Monica's coming to watch the game in a bit."
For the first time, I didn't rush to meet him with that usual excitement in my heart.
He didn't know it yet.
This time, I'd make sure to stay far away from him.
*****
Leopold's school jacket landed softly on my desk.
I subconsciously flexed my wrists.
There was no lingering pain.
In my previous life, he had kept my wrists tied to the headboard with his tie for seven whole days.
He did that all because I refused to apologize on the anniversary of Monica's death.
But what was I supposed to apologize for?
Monica was my sister, my foster parents' real daughter.
The moment she was brought back home, everyone treated her like a treasure.
Yeah, I'd been jealous. Who wouldn't be?
I'd held a grudge against her for a long time.
The moment she came back, it felt like my parents weren't mine anymore.
And Leopold wasn't either.
But she was so tiny and fragile back then.
When she first came home, she looked so pale and delicate.
She would always call me, "Sharon, sweetheart," her voice soft and gentle.
And every time, my heart just softened.
Maybe having an older sister... wasn't so bad after all.
My parents always said Monica wasn't strong.
They told me to be kind to her, to let her have her way.
So when she asked for my room, I just gave it to her.
She wanted my dolls, so I gave them to her.
If she liked a pretty dress I wanted, I let her take it.
But when I got to middle school, I found out Monica had a crush on Leopold, too.
But this time, I wasn't going to back down.
Leopold was my absolute favorite. We were childhood friends, always together.
I couldn't just give him away.
I only ever fought with Monica once.
Just once.
But it cost her life.
And it cost me four years in hell.
*****
Out of nowhere, Monica threw herself in front of the knife meant for me.
She dropped to the ground, blood pooling around her.
Her last words were, "Sharon... I'm giving Leopold back to you. Please, don't hate me anymore, okay?"
That was when Leopold burst in, just in time to see it all happen.
Monica had taken the knife for me.
She was bleeding out.
With her blood clotting disorder, she didn't even make it until the ambulance arrived.
She died right there on the spot.
And those final, confusing words of hers made Leopold hate me with everything he had.
That day, he stared at me, his face cold and expressionless.
He asked, "Sharon, why couldn't it have been you?"
It was only then that I realized the truth.
That afternoon, Monica had planned to confess her feelings to Leopold.
But she just happened to run into a bunch of punks looking for trouble.
In the chaos, she shoved me out of the way.